Open Arms
by Abigail-Nicole
Summary: No, it's not a Journey songfic! The end of Scarlett as it should have been written, multiplied to go on and on because there simply wasn't enough fluff.


**Open Arms**

**Summary:**No, it's not a Journey songfic! The end of Scarlett as it should have been written, multiplied to go on and on because there simply wasn't enough fluff.

**Disclaimer:**Sadly, I don't own Scarlett, Rhett, Ballyhara, Cat, or Ireland, though I wouldn't mind it. All rights belong to Alexandra Ripley, and I bow to her. 

* * *

Blood poured from the wound at his neck, soaking his red tunic black. Scarlett stared at it, her face ghastly. It wasn't real, it couldn't be real. No, things couldn't be this way. Only hours ago she had ridden across Ireland to be here, waiting for Rhett. What had happened? Soldiers in Ballyhara, after Colum, Colum her brother, her daughter's godfather. He was a priest, how could they come for him? 

She was dimly aware of herself shouting. Something dripped from her cheek and she was startled to realize she was crying, tears falling onto Charles's already dead body. How could he be here? The only man she had ever been unfaithful with, lying dead on the ground, blood pouring from him. How could one person have so much blood, she wondered, and not have used it all up yet...

She heard screams behind her, shouts of rage and shots echoing through the dark. Scarlett looked up in time to watch a soldier stagger and fall forward, the look of surprise on his face too plain in the moonlight. _How odd_, he seemed to think, his mouth slightly half-open, before blood blossomed in his chest. Scarlett gasped, her face ashen, and she felt arms behind her.

For one second, she felt terror. Someone had grabbed her. Was it the soldiers to hold her hostage, or a townsperson? She had no illusions about the Fenians--they would hold her hostage and kill the English, accuse her of plotting with them to bring them there. Her temper flared suddenly and she struggled, pounding hard and flailing, but she heard a voice in her ear and the world stopped.

"Later, my dear, no fighting now." 

That voice. She would know that amused, loving tone anywhere, and her heart skipped a beat. Rhett. Oh God, Rhett, he had come for her, just as she knew he would. He would save her, he would take her away and protect her...She was immediately still. "This is the best chance we'll ever have," Rhett murmured to her. "I'll carry you, just go limp."

She relaxed, and it didn't take much pretending on her part. Her body was weary with the exhaustion of carrying her across Ireland on horseback, and her mind wasn't processing fast enough to take this in. She went limp in his arms, and he caught her, cradling her to him briefly. She took a deep shuddering breath as she inhaled the scent of him, felt the warmth of his body under hers, and felt completely at home for the first time in forever. 

He ran into the shadows, crouching on the ground. "What's the best way out of here?" he asked quietly, looking back at her. Scarlett inhaled briefly; she could handle this. Rhett was here with her and she could stand anything. There would be time to understand it later--now she just had to live through it. 

"Put me down and I'll show you," she whispered, and he eased her down, never letting go of her. He pulled her to him impatiently, then kissed her briefly and firmly before letting her go, leaving her head spinning. She took a half-step to regain her balance, then inhaled and stood tall. He grinned at her. 

"I'd hate to be shot without getting what I came for," he said, and she could hear the rumble of laughter in his voice. "Now, Scarlett, get us out of here." 

Scarlett smiled back in the dark. She could have smiled at anything. She reached for his hand, pulling him into the passageway between two houses. "Follow me; this goes to a boreen. We can't be seen once we're in it." 

"Lead on," he saidd, and let go of her hand, pushing her ahead lightly in the small of her back. She let go only with reluctance, she would rather have his hand in hers forever. But the shots were nearer, and they chilled her with the scars of old memory, quickening her steps as they ran for the safety of the boreen.

As they reached the inside, she slowed, turning finally to get a good look at him. The shots sounded far away, more like thunder rumbling in the distance, and for a moment she could believe that they were safe, alone in the boreen in their own little world. She looked into his face, smiling back at her, and she felt truly alive. 

But then a shot sounded nearby and she shivered. There were shots and they were still in danger, danger of dying. Dead like Charles, Charles Ragand was dead. Her only lover, and a British soldier lying dead at the bullet of one of her people, enough to have them all hung or in prison, for none would take blame or credit for it. She could have been shot, and that was something she didn't particularly fancy at the moment, not when she had just found Rhett again, and now both of them were in danger. "We've got to get to the house," she said seriously. "We'll be safe there. I've got to warn the servants to stay away from the town until this is over. Hurry, Rhett, we've got to hurry." 

The house. That stirred something in her memory, not working properly after her ride, still in shock from the fire right outside the boreen. House meant servants, Mrs. Fitz--but before she could finish her thought Rhett spoke. "Wait, Scarlett. Maybe you shouldn't go to the house. I've just come from there. It's dark and empty, darling, with all the doors left open. The servants are gone."

Scarlett stared at him, uncomprehending. The house, servants, Mrs. Fitz, and...her face turned ashen and Rhett stared at her with worry etched clearly in his face, but she didn't notice. She wrenched her arm away, pulling up her skirts as she ran, ran through the boreen as fast as she could. Cat. Where was Cat? Cat, her baby, her darling, her Kitty Cat, they had left her alone by herself at the big house, she must be scared to death...Rhett was speaking behind her, but the words were inaudible behind her. "Scarlett!" he was shouting, running after her, but she ignored it. She had to find Cat.

Bursting out of the boreen, she raced up the wide steps of her house into the front hall, so dark she couldn't have seen Cat if she was there. Rhett was a step behind her, and she began to move restlessly through the room. "Cat!" she screamed, fear and hysteria coloring her voice. Oh God, they could have killed her, anything could have happened to her. "Cat! Cat!" She hurried towards the other door but Rhett grabbed her from behind, turning her around to face him.

"Scarlett!" he said loudly, staring into her eyes. Fear and hysteria must have been painted on her face, but he could only see her eyes, emerald green and pale with fear, her face paper white in the shadows. "Scarlett, get ahold of yourself. Come with me. We've got to get away. The servants must have known something. The house isn't safe."

Scarlett was shaking, her body frail under his powerful grip. Hysteria colored her voice. There was no time for this. "Cat!"

Rhett shook her, and she felt her brain churning back and forth in her head and she grabbed at his arms wildly. "Stop that, the cat's not important. Where are the stables, Scarlett? We need horses," he began, but Scarlett tried to wrench herself away.

"Oh, you fool," she said, and her voice was strained, heavy with pity, fear, hysteria, and despair. "You don't know what you're saying. Let me go! I've got to find Cat--Katie O'Hara, called Cat." She was still shaking, tense and hysterical. "She's your daughter."

Rhett's hands closed painfully on her arms, a vicegrip she could not escape. His face darkened. Scarlett could not be joking about something like this. What was wrong with her? He tightened her grip and she inhaled sharply. "What the devil are you talking about?"

He looked down into her face, and Scarlett knew that her hysteria must have been painted there, but his expression didn't change. "Answer me, Scarlett!" he demanded, his voice rough, and shook her sharply as she grabbed at his arms again. 

"Let go of me, damn you!" she spat out, her face pale and her eyes wide with fear, taking the sting out of her words. "There's no time for explinations now. Cat must be here someplace, but it's dark, and she's alone. Let go, Rhett, and ask your questions later. All that isn't important now." She struggled, trying to break free. She had to find Cat. But his grip was stone, holding her in place.

"It's important to me." His voice was rough with urgency, and she took a deep breath, trying to stop shaking. Cat, she had to find Cat.

"All right, all right. It happened when we went sailing and the storm came. You remember." His face darkened momentarily, and she couldn't tell if it was shame, guilt, or despair on his face as he finally began to understand. "I found out I was pregnant in Savannah, but you hadn't come for me, and I was angry, so I didn't tell you right away. How was I to know you would be married to Anne before you could hear about the baby?"

"Oh dear God," Rhett breathed, releasing her. His daughter. He was about to kill Scarlett for not telling him. His voice took on a note of urgency. "Where is she?" he asked. "We've got to find her. Control yourself, Scarlett. Think. Where would she be?"

Scarlett took a deep breath and stopped shaking. "We will, Rhett," she said, and somehow she managed to smooth over her voice. She had to control herself or she would scare Cat. "There's a lamp on the table by the door. Strike a match so we can find it."

The match showed only enough light to find the light and light it, and a small pool of illumination let Rhett see Scarlett's face. She had smoothed over the hysterical edges in her face and it was calm now, and despite his anger he felt a surge of pride. She was no child any longer; she was a woman in control of herself. "Where do we look first?" he asked, looking to her simply. 

"She could be anywhere. Let's start." She led him briskly through the dining room and morning room, stopping only briefly in each place. "Cat," she called, and her voice was strong, loud, but no longer hysterical, tinged with fear. "Kitty Cat, where are you? Cat, are you in here?" She stopped in the dining room to look under the great table, afraid that Cat might be hiding, when a huge explosion of light and sound burst through the windows.

"My God," she gasped, trying to breathe as the breath was knocked out of her. Explosions followed each other, explosions of noise, sounds, light, as Ballyhara burst into flame. Ballyhara, her town, the town she had worked so hard to build, destroyed in so many moments, as if it were just dirt and matchsticks. No, she wouldn't think about that. That wasn't important. She had to find Cat; that was what was important.

"Cat!" she called, her hands over her ears, as she ran upstairs, running down to her rooms as she pushed open the doors to Cat's room. The animals Cat loved so much were illuminated in orange, tea set on a fresh ironed cloth in Cat's favorite pattern, her cover smooth on her bed, empty and undisturbed. She turned to Rhett, who's face was as ashen as hers. "Kitchen," she said breathlessly. "She loves the kitchen. We can call down."

Rhett followed her out of the room. He felt useless and he hated feeling useless. Anger, love, and fear battled inside of him, anger at Scarlett for keeping Cat from him, love as he watched her quiet strength, her newfound maturity, and fear that his daughter, the daughter he had never known, might never know him. He couldn't lose her now, not when he had just found her. He stopped with Scarlett at the bulstrade as she leaned across. 

"Kitty Cat," she called softly, and her voice was full of a tenderness he had never heard before. There was so much he didn't know about her, he realized, so much he had never bothered to learn, and now there was Cat to learn as well. He couldn't wait. "Please answer Momma if you're down there. It's important, sweetheart."

Orange light flickered eerily over the pans on the wall, the room burning in scarlet and orange, coals and flames reflecting throughout the copper cookware, casting too many shadows where a little girl could hide. Scarlett strained her ears, looking through every shadow desperately. She held her breath, and had almost turned to walk away when she heard a very small voice. 

"Cat's ears hurt."

Rhett's breath caught. His daughter. Scarlett sighed in relief but she kept her voice calm. "Oh I know baby, that was an awfully loud noise. You hold Cat's ears. I'll come around and down. Will you wait for me?" She spoke casually, and Rhett admired her, his own voice caught somewhere in his throat, but he did not miss her hands, clenched and white knuckled, about to break the balustrade. 

"Yes," Cat said simply, and Scarlett sagged in relief. She gestured to Rhett and he followed her wordlessly, anger and fear disappearingas he followed her along the gallery, through the door, and after she closed it she began to shake. Rhett took her gently and held her. 

"I was so frightened," she said, her voice muffled. "I was afraid they'd taken her away. Or hurt her."

"Scarlett, look, we must hurry." The windows were no longer dark; a cluster of torches was moving toward the house, and Scarlett paled visibly. 

"Run," she said, looking up at him, and his face hardened. He would protect them. He would not lose them, not after he had worked so hard and so long to find them. He put his hand beneath her arm, pulling her along and supporting her as she grabbed her skirts to run, down the stairs through the ballroom, the ghosts of Irish saints and heroes above their heads looking mad and stern in the glinting half-light, dangerous and proud. Scarlett ignored them as they ran, and she pulled the kitchen door behind her, struggling with the lock until Rhett took it from her hands, settling it in its place.

He turned around just in time to see a dark figure approaching him, firelight painting a glowing halo around her, so small and delicate. "What is your name?" she asked calmly, and Rhett's voice caught. She was fearless, she was beautiful, and she was his daughter. Everything he wanted.

"Rhett," he said simply, and his voice caught in his throat. 

Scarlett cut into his reverie. "You two can make friends later. We've got to get to the stables. There's a door in the kitchen garden, it's got high walls, though, I don't know if there's another door out of it. Do you know, Cat?" She looked down at her daughter with pride and tenderness. 

Cat looked up at her mother with trusting green eyes. She was so mature for her age, Scarlett thought suddenly. Her baby. "Are we running away?"

Scarlett smiled at her, trying not to frighten her. "Yes, Kitty Cat, the people who made the awful noise want to hurt us."

"Do they have stones?" Cat asked, and Scarlett could see the shadow of fear in her eyes.

"Very big ones."

Rhett turned to them from the far side of the kitchen, where he was looking out the door to the Kitchen Garden. "I can lift you onto my shoulders, Scarlett, then you cna reach the top of the wall. I'll hand Cat up to you."

"Fine, but maybe there's a door. Cat, we have to hurry now, okay? Is there a door in the wall?"

"Yes." 

"Good. Give Momma your hand, and let's go."

Cat looked up at her mother as she tried to keep up with her. "To the stables?"

"Yes, come on, Cat," Scarlett said impatiently. She looked over her shoulder; the noise of the crowd was coming closer. 

"The tunnel would be faster," Cat said simply, and Scarlett turned to her. Her face was pale, determined, and she slowed and stopped.

"What tunnel?" Scarlett asked unevenly, and felt her voice shake. They were coming closer. They had to hurry or they would take them, burn them, shoot them. No, she would not lose Cat. Her grip on the girl's hand was tight. Rhett came to her silently and put an arm across her shoulders, steadying her. She took a deep breath; they were going to be all right. 

"The tunnel to the servants' wing. The footmen have to use it so they can't look in the window when we're having breakfast."

Scarlett's breath caught. "That's horrible," she said harshly. "If I'd have known--"

Rhett intervened. "Cat, take your mother and I to the tunnel, please," he said calmly. "Would you mind if I carried you, or would you rather run?"

Cat stared up at him with her solemn green eyes, and he felt his heart swell. She was so brave, so intelligent, so mature, and she was his daughter. "If we have to hurry, you'd better carry me. I can't run as fast as you."

He knelt and held out his arms. Cat walked trustingly into them and he couldn't stop himself from a quick hug, careful not to squeeze her too hard. She was so precious...he let her go and held out a hand so she could climb onto his back. "Onto my back, then, Cat, and hold around my neck. Tell me where to go."

"Past the fireplace," Cat said, and he smiled at the note of command in her voice. A born leader, just like her mother. Just like him. "That door that's open. That's the scullery. The door to the tunnel is open, too. I opened it in case I had to run. Momma was in Dublin."

Scarlett felt her heart rip. Cat had needed her and she had not been there for her baby. Rhett glanced at her and smiled; her newfound motherhood still amused him. "Come on, Scarlett, you can bawl your eyes out later. Cat is going to save our unworthy necks."

Scarlett nodded worldessly and followed Rhett and Cat into the tunnel. It was high, with grated windows that let in light that seemed to paint streaks on Scarlett's face, making it haggard and shallow in the light. She had waited so long, and finally they were together. She followed Rhett, stumbling sometimes on the uneven floor, but Rhett never stumbled. No, he wouldn't, not with Cat on his back. He jounced her and she shrieked with delight, and in spite of herself Scarlett smiled. The man was playing horsie with her! She didn't know whether to laugh or cry, so she did neither and just followed them down the hall, a feeling of warmth in her heart. They were a family again. Really, truly a family again. 

She followed them out of the servant's wing, following Cat's directions to the stable yard. The horses were insane, yelling, kicking, screaming, and Scarlett's mind was filled with the memory of Bonnie, a bucking horse, the body of her child lying on the ground. She couldn't stand much more of this; she had to get them out. "Hold Cat tight while I let them out," she said urgently, and her face was pale. Rhett studied her face and shook his head.

"No, you take her. I'll do it." He swung Cat down and handed her to Scarlett, who took her and retreated to the safety of the tunnel. The horses grated in the background and Scarlett hestitated--they needed to be gone fast, and that was only if she helped Rhett.

"Kitty Cat, can you stay here for a little while by yourself while Momma helps with the horses?"

"Yes. A little while. I don't want Ree to be hurt."

"I'll send him to the good pasture," Scarlett promised. "You're a brave girl."

"Yes," Cat said as if this were a fact of life and Scarlett were stating the blantly obvious. Scarlett smiled and ran to Rhett's side, helping him release all the horses except Comet and Half Moon. The noises were coming closer and she could see torches inside the house.

"Bareback will have to do. I'll get Cat," Scarlett said, turning, and as she did fire racd up the curtains she could see. Her face paled and she raced across the yard, grabbing Cat in her arms. "Come, Kitty Cat, we have to hurry," she murmured to her daughter, holding her tight in her embrace as she raced back to the tunnel. Rhett was on Comet's back holding Half Moon to keep him steady. 

"Give Cat to me," he said, reaching for her from Scarlett and settling her in the saddle with him. Scarlett was mounted in a flash, her skirts riding up to her thigh, and Rhett grinned in spite of himself. 

"Cat, show Rhett the way to the ford, okay? We'll go to Pegeen's, the way we always do, remember? Then we can take the Adamstown road to Trim. It's not far. There'll be tea and cakes at the hotel. Just don't dawdle. You show Rhett the way, and I'll keep up. Now go."

They rode along silently, the horses's hooves on the ground solid and reassuring as Scarlett regained her confidence. They would be safe, they woudl be a family again, and things would be fine. They stopped at the tower. "Cat says she'll invite us to her room," Rhett said evenly. Scarlett looked up at the tower, then flames caught her attention. Adamstown was on fire. She quickly dismounted. "They're not far behind. Hop down, Cat, and run up that ladder like a monkey."

She and Rhett sent the horses running, then followed, Rhett behind Scarlett. He bowed, insisting mockingly, "Ladies first," but Scarlett gave him a dubious glare and made sure her skirts were tight around her legs. The darkness hid Rhett's grin.

"Pull up the ladder," Scarlett said once they were inside. "They can't get to us then."

"But they'll know we're in here," he said easily. "I can keep anyone from getting in; only one can come up at a time. Quiet, now, I hear them."

Scarlett crawled into Cat's cubbyhole, holding Cat tight in her arms. Cat looked up at her mother with serious eyes. "Cat's not afraid," she said bravely.

"Shh, precious. Momma's scared silly." 

Cat giggled and snuggled closer to her mother. There were voices outside now, voices that sounded loud and angry and made a chill run down her spine. Her Momma put her hands over Cat's ears and Cat shuggled closer to her. The men were very angry. Scarlett cradled her, whispering softly to her over and over, _aroon, aroon,_ rocking her soothingly. 

More angry voices came now, and Cat could make out one word, repeated over and over in hissing, angry tones that sounded so loud and so close. "changeling"..."changeling"..."changeling"..."changeling"...She looked up at Rhett beside the ladder. He had come with Momma and she accepted him, complacent in her bravery and calm. 

The voices were ever louder now, and Cat pressed closer to Momma. There were more voices, angry, talking about her tower and the ladder. Then there was a smell of smoke coming to her nose. The ladder, they were burning the ladder. She smiled but didn't push out of her mother's arms; it was a gift to her mother, to get to hold her daughter close this one time.

There was a long moment of silence. Rhett came over to them both and held them in his arms. Scarlett rested her head against his chest, and felt safe, protected, and for once she felt like she belonged. Cat grew looser in her arms and finally her dark head rested against Scarlett and Rhett, deeply asleep. Scarlett laid her down on the quilts gently, stroking her hair before she went back to Rhett. They needed no words. She wrapped her arms around his neck and their lips met in the dark. 

She could feel him in the kiss, feel his love, his fear for her safety, his passion, his courage and need to protect her, and an undercurrent of desire that grew stronger until it broke off, both of them panting heavily. "So that's what it means," she said shakily, smiling at him. "Why Mr. Butler, you fairly take my breath away."

She could feel the laughter in his chest as he let go of her and gently distangled her arms from him. "Come away from Cat. We have to talk." He tucked the quilt around Cat tenderly, then out of the wall niche and towards the window, fire illuminating his profile, and Scarlett followed him, standing close by him. She would follow him forever; she would always be close to him.

"We'll get away," she said soberly. "There's a hidden path from the witch's cottage."

He turned at her with a questioning half-glance. "From what?"

Scarlett explained: "She's not really a witch, or at least I don't think so, and it doesn't matter anyhow. She'll show us the path. Or Cat will know one, she's in the woods all the time."

"Is there anything Cat doesn't know?"

"She doesn't know you're her father."

Scarlett's simple statement was calm, and entirely too solid for his liking. His face hardened and his jaw clenched, but Scarlett did not move. His voice was hard when he spoke. "Someday I'll beat you black and blue for not telling me."

"I was going to," Scarlett replied sharply, hurt. "But you fixed it so I couldn't! You divorced me when it was supposed to be impossible, and then before I could turn around you had gotten married. What was I supposed to do?" she asked, and there was a challenge in her green eyes. She was on the defensive and not backing down. "Hang around your front door like some kind of fallen woman?" she pratically spit the words out. "How could you do such a thing? And you blame me. It was rotten of you."

"Rotten of me?" Rhett's voice was angry now. "After you went off to god knows where without a word to anyone? My mother was worried sick. She was ill, until your Aunt Eulalie told her you were in Savannah."

"But I left her a note. I wouldn't upset your mother for the world. I love Miss Elanor."

Rhett caught her chin in his hand, examining her face in the uneven, flickering light. She was telling the truth; she could never lie to him when she looked him in the face. Suddenly it all seemed so petty, too much like the old days, and he wanted that behind them. He kissed her, then put his arms around her and held her close. "It happened again," he said. "My darling, hot-tempered, pigheaded, wonderful, infuriating Scarlett, do you realize we've been through all this before? Missed signals, missed chances, mix-ups and misunderstands that need never have happened. We've got to stop it. I'm too old for all this drama."

He buried his lips and her laughter in her tangled hair, and Scarlett closed her eyes, resting against him. She was so tired. She was finally safe, finally safe in Rhett's embrace, and she let herself go quietly, tears streaming silently down her face, body limp in Rhett's arms. 

He tightened his grip around her when he felt her go limp, and for once he began to glimpse her life through her eyes. He held her tightly. Her body was so warm, so comforting, and it felt like it fit against him, like this was the way things were meant to be. He needed her; he wanted her. His arms tightened, and Scarlett lifted her face, kissing him urgently, passionately. There was neither rest nor safety in their kisses, but danger, passion, blinding ecstasy until he pulled away from her completely, panting as he gripped the stone windowsill, trying to get under control. He felt cold without her beside him.

"There are limits to a man's control, my pet," he said wryly, "and the one thing I can think of that's more uncomfortable than a wet beach is a stone floor."

"Tell me you love me," Scarlett demanded. 

Rhett grinned. "What makes you think that? I come to Ireland on those damned clanking chugging steamships so often because I like the climate here so much."

Scarlett laughed, then hit him with both fists. "Tell me you love me."

Rhett caught her wrists and kissed her fists. "I love you, you abusive wench." His voice hardened at the engagement ring on her finger. "And I'll kill that bastard Fenton if he tries to take you away from me."

Scarlett shrugged that off flippantly. "Oh, Rhett, don't be silly. I don't even like Luke. He's a horrible, cold-blooded monster. I was only going to marry him because I couldn't have you." Rhett raised his eyebrows skeptically and Scarlett continued. "Well, I did sort of like the idea of London...and being a countess...and paying him back for insulting me by marrying him and getting his money for Cat and not giving him a son." 

Rhett's eyes glinted with amusement and he kissed her hands. "I've missed you."

* * *

**Notes:** I might continue it with more conversation; Scarlett telling him all that happened and he telling her, in turn. Elaborating on the book, as it might be. Mostly this is all plagerism elaborated. 


End file.
